There was once a weaver who had two wives. The two wives had a daughter each. Of course, the two wives were constantly bickering and clashing with each other. The one who could put up a show of greater strength would win that battle. The weaver sat cursing his luck. “What a bad idea!” he thought. “No one should have two wives in one lifetime …”

At first, the weaver had only one wife, but the moment she gave birth to a daughter, he brought home a second wife, hoping for a son. The elder wife and her daughter, Shukhu the joyous one, were filled with malice. The new bride got an earful when she stepped into her new home. On top of that, within a year, she, too, gave birth to a daughter. Her daughter was named Dukhu, the woeful one. The elder wife and Shukhu could barely hold in their laughter. “Hah! How about that!”

The weaver soon died, lamenting the absence of a son. After his death, fights broke out once again over who would inherit the tiny house and his meagre savings. Finally, the dead weaver’s belongings were divided between the two wives, who then parted ways.

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